A New Northwest Mystery
by Harfold Setimus
Summary: Imagine what Northwest Mansion Noir would have been like if Dipper, Pacifica, Mabel, Candy, Grenda, hadn't been 12 years old, but 15? Would things have been different? What would have stayed the same? Same basic plot, but this isn't the story you know. Dipper/Pacifica pairing throughout. Not really an Alternate Universe. Rated T cause this is gonna get tense. Ready? Let's go.
1. Prologue

It probably goes without saying that...

 **Prologue** **:** Getting ready for a party is easier _without_ ghosts.

Preston Northwest was nervous. And he was not happy about it.

When one is a multi-billionaire with zero philanthropic tendencies, he tends to be used to getting what he wants when he wants it. When he had seen a youtube video featuring extreme athletes jumping off cliffs in wingsuits that made them look like flying squirrels, Preston's custom made wingsuit was on it's way to his home within the hour. And when Preston had lost the nerve to actually use the suit off of one of Gravity Falls more unusually shaped cliffs, Jones, the valet, had jumped with the suit instead, while Preston looked on. Despite having no training, Jones had survived, (barely,) and Preston had hung the suit in an elaborate glass case, looking new and unused, (which it almost was,) so that Preston could casually show his friends proof of what a fantastic extreme athlete he was.

Now Preston could not make his anxiousness leave him, no matter what he tried. He had fired three psychologists in as many days, and no amount of soothing music from his private string quartet could make him calm down. Not that his nerves showed, of course. Preston was a Northwest. And Northwest's kept their composure. But if there was one thing in this world that Preston hated, it was anything that reminded him of the fact that money couldn't buy him everything. Because right then, it couldn't but him peace.

And in a way, Preston's nervousness did show. He was the terror of his servants, his temper was short and his wrath was swift. However, this wasn't a far cry from how Preston usually behaved, and the servants didn't think much of it. But Preston thought of it. Thought of it constantly.

He tried to reason with himself. The annual Northwest Party, celebrating the success of the Northwest family, was only 24 hours away. At this time tomorrow, some of the most influential people in the world would be laughing at his jokes and gaping at his wealth and grandeur. He should have been happier than he normally allowed himself to be. But try as hard as he might, Preston Northwest, the richest man in Gravity Falls, the most powerful man in Oregon, the snootiest snoot in all of Snootdom, was nervous. And on edge.

So when his possessions began trying to kill him, he, quite understandably, freaked out.

-)&(-

The Gala Ballroom of Northwest manor was rarely this busy. Even the Northwest Christmas Feast didn't warrant this much work. Servants flew back and forth, draping gold and silver decorations over the room, setting the table with ornate platters and goblets, and trying to avoid their master's wrath. At that moment, one of the servants was not so lucky.

"Put the oyster fork at an angle! We're not animals, man!" Preston's harsh order was followed up by swatting the serving boy with his rolled up newspaper. It was the Evening edition, and Preston hadn't read so much as the front page. The news was not what concerned him just then.

"Preston, I must say," purred Priscilla, Preston's wife, looking over a golden leaflet, "this year's guest list has _so_ much diversity."

"Yes," said Preston, swatting a maid who had missed a spot of dust on a candelabra, "a nice mix of millionaires _and_ billionaires." He looked about him and smiled. Potted plants from countries whose names he couldn't pronounce, chimpanzee servants that had cost a fortune to train, and rows of lavender gift bags being filled with Belgian chocolates and live quail. Everything was perfectly normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. No reason to be nervous. At all.

"Now Preston," Priscilla was saying, "you will be welcoming our guests in at the door in the foyer..."

"Yes, very good dear," murmured Preston, not paying attention in the slightest, but instead thinking very hard trying to remember... he knew he'd forgotten something... but what?

"And I will be in here waiting for you," Priscilla was continuing, "and will welcome them again, and then... hold on... where the devil is..."

"Looking for me mother?"

Priscilla twirled to discover her daughter, Pacifica, standing behind her, looking stunning in a pale green dress that complimented her golden hair. Her sapphire eyes held the confidence that was the birth-right of all Northwests. Pacifica looked stunning by any standards, and she was only 15. Instantly, her mother was furious.

"Pacifica! What did I say about that dress? The party theme is _seafoam_ green, not _lakefoam_ green. Look! It's not the same as mine!" Priscilla swished her own dress for emphasis. It was a slight shade lighter. Pacifica was not swayed.

"Mom, I really like this one! Besides, no one will notice..."

"Go and change, Pacifica!"

"Mom..."

"Now!"

"But-"

Suddenly there was a light metallic sound as Preston rang a small golden hand-bell that he had produced from a pocket. Pacifica suddenly shrank back, and became silent. Preston stopped ringing the bell. "Pacifica," he said in a moderate tone, "mind your mother. Now."

Pacifica sighed unhappily. "Yes, dad." She turned to go back up to her room and dress again, when something happened. Something unexpected. Something 150 years in the making.

A sudden wind blasted through the ballroom, as if the door leading outside had just been opened. Indeed, Preston was starting to roar that the windows be closed at once when the temperature of the room dropped noticeably. A rumbling noise, like far-away thunder, could be heard throughout the room. The great tables began to shake, and the plates and the chairs and the forks and the candles and the knives all started to

Lift up into the air.

All movement in the room ceased. There was not a sound. Maids clutched at one another and trembled, and butlers who had been hired for the very reason that they were never surprised by anything suddenly became human statues.

Priscilla and her daughter stood dumbfounded, frozen at the sight of it. Priscilla just managed to rasp out, "P-Preston?" before turning to find her husband paper white, gazing at a silver chalice floating in mid-air like it was the grim reaper. He finally spoke.

"It's happening."

The silence in the room was absolute. There was no sound apart from the moan of a now faint wind that had come from nowhere. All at once, it stopped...

And then all of Heck broke loose.

The floating objects of Northwest stature suddenly began hurtling themselves around the room. Gilded plates shattered against valets and busboys, a silver pitcher slammed into a doorman's head with the sound of a gong, knocking him out instantly, and ornate hand-carved oak-wood chairs began smashing themselves into piles of scrap wood, which were lit aflame by flying candles and turned into indoor bonfires.

A platter meant to hold white chocolate covered pomegranate seeds hurtled itself towards Preston. He smashed it deftly with his newspaper, before screaming like a little girl and leaping under the (thankfully not airborne,) dinner table, as a swarm of homing salad forks just missed his face and buried themselves into the wall. He huddled there next to his hysteric wife and screaming daughter, watching in disbelief the scene of destruction all around him. Moments before... _It had been so perfect,_ Preston thought, shoving a cowering serving boy out from under the table and into the chaos to make more room for himself.

"Preston!" cried Priscilla, "What is this?"

"What's going on?" Pacifica screamed as she watched a flying candelabra light a maid's apron on fire, before turning the silk curtains to ash.

"You'll be fine, sweetey." Preston said, not too convincingly, as a butler screamed that he couldn't call 9-1-1, because the carving knife for the grouse had sawed through the phone lines.

"Preston!" Priscilla had to shout over to serving platters smashing together like cymbals for no apparent reason. "The party is tomorrow! What are we going to do?!"

Preston banged his hand on the floor. "There has to be someone who can deal with this sort of nonsense!" He grunted in frustration. Then he suddenly started. The newspaper was still in his hand. He unrolled it and stared at the front page for a short while. Then he smiled darkly.

"And I think I know just the person."


	2. Chapter 1: Enter Dipper Pines

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for...

 **Chapter 1:** Enter Dipper Pines.

"All right... try it now!"

Soos understood Dipper despite his friend having a screwdriver between his teeth, and turned the key. The golf cart roared uncharacteristically loud as the new engine started. Dipper had been noticing lately that the stupid little electrical motor in the golf cart had been keeping less of a charge over time. He had had to recharge it more and more frequently until he had finally decided it was time for an upgrade. With a little advice from Old Man McGucket, the new gas engine was fitted and ready.

Dipper slid out from under the golf cart, spit out the screwdriver, and stood with a satisfied smile. "And I think our top speed just went up by about 10 miles an hour."

Soos grinned. "Dude, you must be, like, the best 15 year old golf cart mechanic of all time!"

Wiping his hands clean of oil with an old rag, Dipper returned, "Yeah, forget saving Gravity Falls from a psychotic little kid in a giant robot, I'm putting _that_ on my resume!"

They laughed together as they began cleaning up the garage. Dipper then asked eagerly, "You wanna take her for a spin?"

Soos scratched his head sheepishly. "I'd love to, man, but I promised my Abuelita that I'd be home early tonight. I'm gonna help her cook dinner. You can go ahead without me."

"What?" Dipper jammed his old white and blue cap on his head and crossed his arms. "No way, man. You did practically half the work. Plus, you've been fixing this old thing without me for years. You deserve to be there when we test it. We'll do it another time."

Soos grabbed Dipper in a hold and messed up his hair. "Oh, dude, you're the best, bro!"

Dipper turned off the golf cart and together the two friends closed up their little shop. The sun was just starting to slide behind the treeline, turning the sky above the deep green pines a shining gold. Dipper bade farewell to Soos and stopped to appreciate the scene before heading inside the Mystery Shack. He stopped in the kitchen to nab an apple before heading into the living room. Mabel, Candy, and Grenda were all gathered around the old TV. Grenda was flipping through the channels seemingly at random, while Candy and Mabel watched the screen as if looking for something. The threesome turned as one as Dipper came in.

"Hiya Dipper!" Mabel greeted her twin, "Where's Soos?"

"He headed home early." Dipper took a bite from his apple and noticed that all three girls were looking him up and down rather intently. Dipper shrugged and spoke through his bite, "What?"

Mabel stood and walked around him in a circle, surveying him from all angles. Then she removed his hat, ("Hey!") and combed through his tousled chestnut hair. Finally she turned to look at her friends with a wide, evil grin.

"No burn marks?" Candy inquired.

Mabel shook her head, still smiling.

"No charred hair?" Grenda asked in disappointment.

Mabel got right in Dipper's face and looked close. "His eyebrows aren't even singed!" she cried triumphantly.

Dipper swiped back his hat and ventured, "So, does anyone want to tell me what's going on?"

Mabel accepted a pair of green bills from her disgruntled friends before responding, "Oh, we took bets on whether or not you'd explode. Candy said you'd blow up, Grenda said you'd just catch fire, and I said you'd be fine."

Dipper shook his head. "You guys are weird." He walked out as Grenda went back to flipping channels and Candy and Mabel's eyes returned to the screen.

"Stan said he'll be back before noon tomorrow!" Mabel called. "He wants you to open the Shack as normal and said to inform you that if you raise the dead while he's gone, he'll hand feed you to them!"

"Got it!" Dipper shouted back on his way upstairs. The rickety old staircase creaked in all the right places as Dipper went up to the attic room. Although they had loved sharing a room before, the room that Dipper and Mabel had shared had become crowded over time, and Dipper had relocated to the second attic chamber. He shut the door behind him and threw his cap onto his bed. Stretching, he made his way to the window. He glared at the red panes shaped to look like an eye in a triangle. "Mark my words, Bill," he said to his window, "I'll be ready when you return." Then Dipper flung the panes apart to reveal once more the glorious sunset. The warm summer breeze was delicious to his skin. He admired the view for a long while.

" _How could I ever leave this place?"_ he thought to himself. _"I can't even_ _ **imagine**_ _going back to California. Summer break might end, but I don't want this to end. I belong here. Mabel does to. Who wants to go back to Mom and Dad divorced? What if they try to split us up?"_

Dipper came back to reality. "Forget it, man." he scolded himself, "It'll work out."

He left the window open so that his room would begin to smell like the pine forest and turned to the back wall. There were a number of cork-boards hanging there, each covered in photographs, newspaper clippings, and handwritten notes mostly written by him. Colored thread linked different pieces of evidence, as well as notes saying things like, ~ _Tape #15 Interview with victims of The Inconveniencing~_ or one of his favorites, ~ _Tape #42 Accidental footage of the Hide-Behind~._ A box of old tapes to his camera were sorted by number. One board was mostly covered in blurry pictures and indistinct shapes, with a few up close shots of mouths full of dagger sharp teeth inches from the camera.

Another was covered in clearer shots of things that held still: blue and pink crystal towers in the middle of the forest, a tyrannosaur trapped in amber, a boulder covered in pulsing green runes, and a tree whose trunk was covered in patterns that resembled screaming human faces.

The third cork-board held the oddest pictures of all; the residents of Gravity Falls. Gruncle Stan, Lazy Susan, Toby Determined, Old Man McGucket, Tad Strange, Gideon Gleeful, (snarling and behind bars,) The Guy with the Woodpecker for a wife, Manly Dan,Preston Northwest, Mrs. McGucket the raccoon, Shmebulock smiling for the camera, and Hans the tiny Dutchman with a golf ball for a head. And lacing from board to board, photograph to sticky note, was a thin red thread that ended pinned to the trunk of a maple strong box sitting on the floor under the evidence boards. Dipper removed a copper key from his pocket, and inserted it into the lock. The box began to hum dangerously and glow red. The boy breathed deep.

" _Aperi amicus mitu-serto."_

The strongbox returned to normal.

Dipper turned the key. With a click, the box opened. Reaching inside, Dipper removed a thick book with a dark red cover. On the front was a hand with six fingers cut from gold sheet. And written on the palm of the hand was the number three. Dipper closed the box and returned the key to his pocket. Walking back to the window, Dipper sat in his favorite window seat and began to read from the Journal. The sun was setting on another day in Gravity Falls. Glancing at his closet, Dipper was grateful he hadn't needed anything inside. It had been a quiet and peaceful day. No zombies, no dinosaurs, no secret societies or dream demons. A little disappointing, but for the most part, a welcome break from the normal chaos of this life he loved.

Dipper should have known better.

-)&(-

It was dark outside and Dipper had been reading for a few hours when he heard her scream.

"AAAAUUGH! DIPPERGETDOWNHEREITSON!"

Quickly translating Mabel's cry, ( _Dipper get down here it's on,_ ) he sighed and stuffed the Journal into his jerkin. Grabbing his hat from his bed, he trudged down the stairs. Walking back into the living room, he was about to ask irritably, "What?", in order to communicate how annoyed he was.

He never go the chance, however, as three crazed 15 year old girls can be stronger than they look. Seizing his clothes, they yanked him onto the couch. On the screen was, evidently, what the girls had been looking for all evening. Which was odd, because _nobody_ tuned into Toby Determined on purpose. No one was even sure how he managed to stay on the air at all. It was one mystery of Gravity Falls Dipper had yet to look into.

Trying to escape proved fruitless, (to be fair, Grenda was remarkably strong,) so Dipper watched the screen. Toby Determined looked like he might be wearing a pillowcase, which would be a new low, even for him. He seemed to be standing, oddly enough, in front of Northwest Manor.

"The day has arrived!" He was saying. "The annual Northwest Party is finally here, and even though common folk aren't invited, that won't stop us from camping outside for a peek at the fanciness!"

The camera panned around to show more than a dozen tents set up outside the main gates of the Manor. Grills, picnic tables, lawn chairs, the usual trappings of a harmless civilian mob, strewn around in happy ragtag confusion. Pizza boxes and hot dogs, laundry lines and laughing townsfolk. The sight made Dipper smile, but he was also sad.

"Why does anyone care so much?" he asked his sister.

"Ugh, Dipper, it's only the biggest and _fanciest_ party of the year! Fancy food, fancier boys!"

"Mabel, don't you have any shame?" Dipper talked as he walked into the kitchen and back for a soda. "Any of you? That kind of kowtowing is _exactly_ what the Northwests love." He popped his can and took a swig, stopping to remove the pit. "And who puts peach pits in soda?" he murmured to himself.

Toby Determined came back on the screen. "We'll be here all night! I've been camped out here for nine days, and I haven't showered once!"

The foursome in the living room recoiled in disgust. Apparently, the cameraman was equally disturbed, because the program cut to archive footage of the Northwests on different occasions. There they were, smiling and waving, as though their smiles were gifts to humanity. It was Pioneer Day, and they were all there. Mr. Preston Northwest, with those smug eyes that seemed to be staring straight at Dipper. Mrs. Northwest, with that creepy smile that never changed even a little. And then there was...

The scene changed. Now she was there on her own, smiling the same smile. Waving the same wave. Ms. Gravity falls herself. Dipper ground his teeth. He clenched his fists, crushing the empty Pitt Soda can in his hand.

"Pacifica," he growled.

Mabel noticed his reaction. "Whoa, there, Dipper," she tried to calm him down, "Pacifica's not _that_ bad."

Dipper turned and hurled his soda can into the kitchen. The girls heard the sound of it landing straight in the trashcan. "Mabel, Pacifica Northwest is a stuck up, stereotypical, rotten show off who..."

"Hey." Mabel cut him off. "I fought little demon golf ball people side-by-side with that girl. In case you've forgotten, we're cool."

"Mabel, I don't think getting pizza with her a few times quite covers what a jerk she's been to you." Dipper kept watching the TV screen. "Remember Pioneer Day? Remember the party? When you met her?"

"Dipper, that's in the past!" Mabel countered, as Candy and Grenda got bored with the argument and began discussing the likelihood that the Northwests really had live quail in their gift bags.

"Just because it's in the past doesn't mean I forget it." Dipper turned and headed into the kitchen again. "I'll do the dishes."

Mabel frowned. Something was up with her brother. Since when had he hated Pacifica that much? She started to think about why he would act like that. Really, she had been stuck up, but what had Pacifica really done to him? She forgot about it when Candy and Grenda asked for her take on breaking into the Party, but the question stuck firm to the back of her mind.

Plunging his hands into the near-boiling water, Dipper scrubbed without thinking much of it. He shouldn't have snapped in the living room. Mabel might guess why Pacifica infuriated him so much. He threw a plate into the water. Why was it so hard? He tried _so hard_ to hate her. And for a while he really had hated her. But try as he might, he still couldn't get her out of his head.

Dipper reasoned with himself. _"She's beautiful because she's rich. She can afford it. She buys her way through life. Cheating, just like I told Mabel."_ He hated himself for thinking about her. For admitting in his head that she was beautiful. For...

Dipper looked down and realized he was done with the dishes and scrubbing his left hand. He tossed the brush away and dried his hands. Stupid Northwests. Stupid party. Stupi-

Dipper froze as he looked out the window. There was a gleaming black limousine parked outside the Shack. Apart from the name on the side, there was only one family that could afford a limo in Gravity Falls. And that meant...

Dipper got an evil idea. This would be fun. He slid casually into the living room.

"Seriously Mabel, Pacifica Northwest is the _worst._ " Any minutes now... yes! A knock on the door.

"And that's not just jealousy talking," he continued as he walked to the front door, "I would say that to her face." He hoped desperately Mr. and Mrs. Northwest hadn't come for some reason. He opened the door.

Sure enough, there stood Pacifica, dressed in a brown overcoat and a pink hood, with dark shades on. She opened her mouth to say something. Dipper beat her to it.

"You're the worst." SLAM.

Mabel shrieked. "AAAAAGH! DIPPER!"

"See? Told you." Dipper smiled and headed up the stairs. He didn't want anyone to catch him staring at Pacifica. And he wasn't sure he could stop himself.

Closing his door behind him, he flopped back into the window seat. He wondered why Pacifica was _here_ right before her family's big party. He shook his head. "Stop thinking about her," he murmured to himself. He gazed out his window. The panes were still open, and the dark night smelled like... wait, rain? He looked up and saw clouds rolling in from the East. East wind... wasn't that a bad omen?

His door opened behind him. He kept looking out the window. "I'm not apologizing to her, Mabel." A voice spoke behind him.

"I don't want your apology, Dip."

Dipper started, sitting up and looking around. Pacifica Northwest closed his door behind her.

"I need your help."


	3. Chapter 2: How can I help you, Ms N?

Well, now, Ms. Northwest,

 **Chapter 2:** What can I do for you?

Pacifica had not expected a super friendly welcome.

While she had hung out with Mabel a few times before, and they had been on pretty good terms since The Golf War, Pacifica had never truly made any attempt at making peace with the more mysterious of the Mystery Twins. And because of a pretty rocky history, Pacifica had been prepared for a not-so-welcome welcome.

What she had _not_ expected was to have the door slammed in her face.

Pacifica had not had an easy last few hours. The incident in the Gala Ballroom had been traumatic, to say the least. But that was nothing compared to her parents afterward. They had drilled Pacifica ceaselessly to be sure that she could get Dipper Pines on the job. As the party depended on Dipper agreeing to help, they had made it quite clear to Pacifica that failure was NOT an option. But then, as a Northwest, it never had been.

Then there had been the stress of trying to pick what to wear. Something that looked nice, but wouldn't make him think of a prissy daddy's girl. It had to be warm in case those rain clouds broke open, but she didn't want him to think she had put a lot of thought into what she wore... UGH, why was this so hard?!

She had been stressed on the way to the Mystery Shack. She had been on-edge looking at the ramshackle and yet, somehow, charming house. She had been nervous walking up the front steps, knocking on the door, waiting, waiting, waiti- were those footsteps?

The door had opened.

There were many things in life that could infuriate Pacifica Northwest, but most of them Pacifica could fight, or do something about, or plain ignore. This was not the case with Dipper Pines. There seemed to be nothing she could say, no cutting remark, nothing she could do to keep that boy in his place. And she could never ignore him. It was impossible. He was always standing, always smiling, always pressing on. With that dusty old book he carried around, that old cap he always wore, that look he gave her that said he was unbeatable, that he would never surrender...

The same look he had worn when he had opened the door.

Her mind had gone blank. She couldn't think of what she was going to say. She opened her mouth to stutter, to say _something._

But she hadn't even gotten the chance to make of fool of herself.

Mabel had come to the door with her friends, apologized, joking about Dipper being crazy... "That's the problem, Mabel. He's not crazy, he's driving **me** crazy."

And then she had pushed past the confused trio and up the stairsto his room where she had known he would be.

And there he was.

-)&(-

Pacifica knew he had been surprised to see her, hear her voice. Now he sat staring into space, his eyes clouded with thought, amusement at being caught off guard...

She slapped herself mentally. _Stop staring at his eyes._

So she surveyed the rest of him. A lithe frame, toned skin, something about his hands, what was with his hands? Why was she looking at his hands?

"And what can I do for you, Ms. Northwest?"

It shocked her back into reality, the formality of his voice. As far as she could remember, Dipper had never called her that. Her family's servants did it all the time, but there was something about it coming from Dipper...

"You know my family's yearly party?"

Dipper nodded. "Of course. If Toby Determined is reporting on it, then it has to be big news." He smiled at his own sarcasm and stood. "Please, take a seat."

He pulled an oak chair from in front of his desk and gestured for her to sit. She did so, as he walked to his bookshelf and began absentmindedly looking through the titles. He spoke without looking at her. "I understand it is to be quite an event."

Pacifica sniffed. "It's the biggest party of the year. Only the _richest_ of guests, the most _expensive_ of tastes, the most exquisite of-"

"Then what, pray tell," Dipper interrupted, "is the illustrious Pacifica Northwest doing here in the middle of the woods on the other side of town asking for _my_ help, when this party is only a few hours away?"

The odd formality in his voice, his words... he sounded like one of her father's business partners...

Oh. Well, that explained a lot.

Professional. He was acting like a professional. The goofball was taking this seriously...

Actually, it suited him quite well.

"Dipper, something is haunting Northwest Manor. Everything is in chaos. If you don't do something, the Party could be ruined."

Dipper's slight smile vanished, as well as the mature tone in his voice. "Aaand I should agree to help you becaaaause? Pacifica, when have you ever done anything besides try to humiliate my sister and I?"

"Mabel and I are cool now!"

"And why is that?"

Pacifica was growing impatient with him. "You know why! You were there! We fought our way out of the Golf Park together!"

"Exactly." Dipper stared Pacifica straight in the eyes. She couldn't look away. They were a mix of every shade of brown there was, and they seemed to be constantly changing. "You and Mabel fought together. You earned her trust. But not mine. Give me one reason why I should trust you. This could all be a trick. An elaborate prank set up by you or your father, to pay back for the whole Northwest Cover-up deal. Am I supposed to believe that _your father_ is asking for _my_ help?"

Pacifica looked at the floor. She was quiet, trying to think of why Dipper should trust her. She finally looked up at him.

"You're right. There's no reason you should trust me. But _I_ trust _you_. I _know_ you can help me." She took off her shades. She remembered the Ballroom. "Please."

-)&(-

Dipper saw it. The truth. Saw it in her eyes. The fear of something very real. Heard it in her voice as she told him she trusted him. He looked at the floor. He couldn't very well leave this alone if it was real. But Pacifica telling him the truth? The Northwests needing his help? This was crazy.

But the temptation was too great. He could feel the pull of the unknown in the deep bones of his legs and the base of his spine and the caves behind his eyes. He felt the thrill and desire in the back of his mind, getting louder and louder. And something else. The desire to do this for Pacifica. To _prove_ he wasn't some dorky kid with a book. To prove he deserved... her respect? What?

He sighed and looked at her. _So beautiful..._ And yet, they had always hated each other. _"Well"_ he thought to himself, _"here we go."_

"Alright, Pacifica. I'll do this. But," he said, getting an idea, "as payment, I'll need three invitations to this party."

She sighed and gave him a dirty look as she realized who the invites were for. "Fine. My parents are going to kill me." She stood to shake on it. He reached for her hand, but first slid off her white glove, before grasping her hand tightly. He looked her in the eyes and smiled evilly.

"This is gonna be _fun_."

-)&(-

The first thing he did was stick his head out of the door and yell down the stairs, "Girls, go get ready. You're all going to the party." There ensued a chorus of shrieks of disbelief and squeals of delight from below. Pacifica groaned inwardly. Her parents were _not_ with a capital _N_ going to be happy about this. But, it was better than the entire thing going up in flames.

She looked down at the glove in her hand. She was still strangely shaken from the handshake. It had felt like electricity. Why?

Dipper was going to what appeared to be his closet. Upon opening the door with a copper key from around his neck, he disappeared inside and called, "Come help me with this, would you?"

She stood and walked to the closet, pocketing her glove rather than putting it back on. The closet was far from ordinary. Rather than clothes, it looked like it held an entire curio shop.

"Here," he said, "hold this. And _don't_ turn it on."

He handed her a red flashlight with a blue shard of crystal taped to the glass. She inspected it critically. "What does it do?"

"What?" Asked Dipper distractedly. "Oh. That. Here." He took it and spun the crystal a few times before walking out into his room. He turned it on the chair Pacifica had sat on. Flipping the switch, the blue beam of light shone on the chair as it rapidly shrunk before their eyes, until Dipper switched the light off. Pacifica blinked. She looked at Dipper, who grinned at her, beginning to turn the flashlight towards her.

"Don't you dare-" she began loudly, backing up.

Dipper laughed. "Just messing with you." He walked over to the tiny chair and set it on top of his bookshelf, like something out of a dollhouse. Then he went back to the closet and put the flashlight back. He dragged out a rather large cardboard box and began rummaging through the contents. Pacifica was still staring at the tiny chair.

"Can you change it back?" she asked him.

Once again, he didn't understand the question at first. "Hmm? Oh, the chair? Yeah, I'll do that later. I just have to find the other crystal... the pink one..." He got lost in thought for a moment before going back to the box. "So, tell me about this thing. Has anyone ever seen it?"

"No," said Pacifica, "it just makes plates and forks and things fly around. Some of the maids said they heard laughter."

Dipper frowned in concentration before nodding. "Ghost."

Pacifica looked at him, nervous. "Can you... kill it?"

Dipper looked at her like she was an idiot. "Kill the soul of a deceased being?"

"You know what I mean. Get rid of it?"

"There you go. That's better." Dipper pulled from the box a glass sphere full of water, about the size of a baseball. "This is full of anointed water. I get him with this, it should dispel his essence into the afterlife."

Pacifica snorted. "Unless it, like, goes _straight through_ him."

"That, my dear," he said, oozing sarcasm, "is why I have _this_." He pulled from the box a tube of glass about as thick as a PVC pipe and as long as his arm. It was capped with bronze on each end, and the inside seemed to be glowing with a faint white light. "This is a materialization rod. It should force your ghost into solid form. Well," he amended, knocking on the glass pipe and looking at it dubiously, " _mostly_ solid. That way I can actually hit him."

He put the orb of water and the rod to the side and began rummaging through the box once more. He removed a dark green bolo tie that looked strangely familiar to Pacifica.

"For this job? Useless." Dipper muttered, and chucked it back in the box. He pulled out a strange looking mushroom and growled, "Why would I need extra brain power? Besides, this looks rotten." Tossing it back in the box, he scolded himself, "I have _seriously_ got to organize all this stuff"

He looked once more through the box, then folded it shut. Turning to Pacifica, he asked, "Would you go get the black case with silver clasps towards the back?"

Pacifica nodded, a little dumbfounded, and walked into the closet. She found the box at the back by a leaf-blower labeled ~FOR GNOMES~. Taking the case, she noticed something rather tall rolled up in the back of the closet.

"Hey, Dipper, what's with the blue carpet with the yellow arrows on it?"

"Unless you'd like to switch bodies, Pacifica, please don't touch that."

Pacifica backed up rapidly. No, she definitely did NOT want that happening.

Making her way carefully, (she had no idea what the black case did,) she came back out to find Dipper testing the edge of a double sided sword with a dull gleam to the metal.

"What's that old thing?" she asked a bit prattishly, setting the case down.

"Oh, nothing. Sherlock Holmes tried to kill me with this. I kept it for kicks." He turned to grin at her wide-eyed stare. "It won't be any good today, though. On the other hand, _this_ old thing..."

Dipper undid the clasps on the case and removed from the box a gleaming pistol that seemed to be made of swirling silver and bronze, with a small glass cylinder sitting along the top. A line of glass along the side of the gun glowed white when Dipper drew back the bolt on the opposite side of the device. Pacifica leaned back. "What is that?"

Dipper closed one eye and looked down the gun before turning it over in his hands. "I made this a while back. I found the materialization rod up here, in the attic, and the journal taught me how to use it. By studying the rod, I was able to make this thing. Never had to use it before."

Pacifica gulped. "But, what does it do?"

Dipper looked at her with a wry grin. "It hurts. A lot."

-)&(-

Dipper had packed everything he needed into a black leather messenger's bag. Dipper liked the bag because of the stain that looked suspiciously like blood. He was packing light for this job. Just the orb of water, the materialization rod, and the Equalizer, Dipper's homemade death toy. He smiled to himself. It had been fun going through his old junk with Pacifica freaking out at every little thing. He tried out a goblin swear word on himself. She was way out of his league. Besides, it was probably to much to hope that she really wasn't all that bad, as much as he wanted to believe it.

" _Alright, Dipper. That's enough of that. Stay on the matter at hand."_

He readied himself mentally, trying to keep the excitement from taking over his pre-frontal cortex. Pacifica had gone downstairs to help the girls with their dresses. Girls. Pfft.

Dipper looked himself over in the mirror. " _Well, look out ghost,"_ he thought. " _Here comes Dipper Pines."_

He walked down the stairs to the living room where Mabel, Candy, and Grenda were all talking excitedly, and Pacifica was trying to pretend she was bored. They all looked at him as he walked into the room. Dipper sighed.

"Well ladies. Shall we?"

-)&(-

The Driver had been sitting in the limo for almost an hour when the four emerged from the house. Dipper opened the door for the girls and nodded at Pacifica as she got in, smiling nastily. She made a face back and slid into the car. Candy and Grenda sat on Pacifica's left, with Mabel across from Grenda and Dipper across from Pacifica. Dipper slid the glass partition aside and called to the driver, "Sir, your name?"

"Ruthers, sir, at your service."

"Very good, Ruthers. Northwest Manor, please. If you would be so good as to pay no regard at all to speed limits on our way there? Lives may hang in the balance and swift travel is imperative."

Ruthers took a second to process this coming from a 15 year old, before responding. "Excellent, sir. What measures would you suggest if we are pursued by the police?"

Dipper smiled at Pacifica as he called back, "Then you need not trouble yourself with shooting out their tires. I'll do that. You just drive."

Mabel's eyes bulged and Pacifica had to bite her hand to keep from laughing at the look on Ruthers' face in the rear-view mirror. Dipper gave Mabel a funny look and called again, "With haste, man!"

"At once, sir!" Ruthers started the car.

Ruthers had been driving Pacifica around since she had been small. She had never seen him drive so fast.


	4. Chapter 3: Survey the Battlefield

Before charging into battle...

 **Chapter 3:** Survey the battlefield.

The drive to the Manor was not very long.

Although the Mystery Shack and Northwest Manor sat on opposite sides of Gravity Falls, the valley was not a particularly large one. In addition, Ruthers was a distinguished driver, and was able to keep everyone perfectly safe while never slowing to less than 60, and often hitting 90. That said, the drive was long enough to give Dipper adequate time to think and to plan. Which was a convenience he was not used to. More often than not, Dipper walked into a situation blind, and relied on his wits and the Journal to get out alright. Now he had not only the Journal, but a veritable arsenal of weapons for use against a specter. But despite being far more prepared than he was used to, he still had quite a bit of prep to go over with Pacifica.

"I'm gonna need you to walk me through most of the areas where it's been happening," he told her as she stared out the window. "and an idea of the layout of the house."

"Don't worry Dip," she joked, turning to him, "stick with me and you won't get lost."

Dipper frowned. "That's not what I'm worried about. Have you checked the time?"

He watched as she looked down at her watch. Her wide eyes made Dipper smile as she looked up and cried, "It's in less than an hour!"

"Precisely why Ruthers is currently breaking the law. We're going to be cutting this pretty close, Pacifica. In fact, there's a good chance that I'll have to be chasing this thing _during_ the party. I want to make sure that I stay low-key. Well," he defended, as Pacifica glanced at him dubiously, "more inconspicuous than Mabel's dress, anyway."

"Hey!" Mabel protested, as the rest of the car laughed, with even Ruthers grinning. Truth be told, none of the girls' dresses were all that low-key. Mabel's was bright pink and puffy, Candy's pale green and covered in flowers, and Grenda's metallic neon orange. Candy and Mabel both had their hair done up in crazy styles, while Grenda's hair was in it's normal bun. Pacifica had wanted to do something with it, but Grenda liked it the way it was. All in all, the threesome was one of the oddest ever seen in Gravity Falls, and would _certainly_ be the oddest to ever step foot in Northwest Manor. Dipper smiled at the thought of Mrs. Northwest's reaction when they walked in the door.

Dipper looked down at his red t-shirt, blue jerkin and jeans, and joked to Pacifica, "I feel rather under-dressed."

It was Pacifica's turn to smile evilly. "Not for long, Dip." Mabel looked at her friends with wide eyes. They exchanged questioning glances. Dipper gulped. Well, _that_ wasn't creepy in the slightest. It was then that Dipper noticed something.

Pacifica was not wearing her right-hand glove.

-)&(-

The majesty and might of a mob of people camping out in front of a billionaire's mansion can be hard to appreciate when viewed solely through the screen of a television. Dipper learned this as the limousine finally pulled up to the imposing gates of Northwest Manor. Either Toby Determined had a second-rate cameraman, (which was probably true regardless,) or even more people had arrived since Toby had been on the air. The sheer size of the group seemed to be larger than the entire population of Gravity Falls.

"It looks like the whole town is out here." Mabel muttered.

Dipper agreed silently. There were only a few people in Gravity Falls that Dipper knew who he _couldn't_ spot in the mob. And most of those people were gnomes.

The majestic front gates admitted the sleek black car, the townsfolk discouraged from following by lines of tall guards in tuxedos and dark sunglasses. As the gates swung closed behind them, Dipper realized he was entering a place that very few had ever seen. He hoped he was truly ready for this. He hoped in vain.

The car pulled to a stop and Ruthers was miffed to see Dipper was faster than him. He had gone to open the door for Pacifica only to find Dipper had already let the girls out and was shutting the door.

"Thank you for your speed, Ruthers. Your skills are impressive. Did you ever race in your younger years?"

All enmity towards Dipper vanished as Ruthers was caught up in a wave of pride. "Indeed sir," he said, not looking at Dipper, but staring into the past, "three years at NASCAR. I never won big, but I was one of the best."

Dipper nodded cordially, smiling. "Time and age have not dampened your ability. I salute your talent, sir."

Ruthers looked Dipper in the eyes. The understanding he could see there, in a boy not yet 16... remarkable.

"Bye, driver man!" Mabel called from the front step with unnecessary volume. "Your mustache is amazing!"

Ruthers smiled broadly as he got back in the car. Chuckling, he pulled away to go park. "What a pair of children," he muttered, watching them in the rear view mirror as they entered Northwest Manor. "Pacifica could certainly learn a thing or two watching them."

-)&(-

As it was, Pacifica was watching the Pines twins quite intently at that moment. Well, maybe _one_ twin in particular...

Mabel's reaction as they entered the Manor was predictable. Anyone who had known her for even 5 minutes could have guessed what she would do. Squealing left and right, darting all over the place, generally causing mild havoc wherever she went, with Candy and Grenda struggling to keep up with this laughing pink comet that had all of the servants at a loss for words. Within minutes, the crazed threesome had already set free a bag of live quail. The sight made Pacifica smile, but her attention was set on something else...

His eyes were moving constantly. Gazing upwards towards the vaulted ceiling, sweeping low to see the polished marble of the floor, darting from one staff member to another. He saw everything. His face was expressionless. He said nothing. He simply took it all in. Analyzing. Learning. Looking for patterns. He looked so out of place here, Pacifica thought. So simply dressed in such a luxurious setting. So deep and profound in a place so shallow and focused on the outward appearance to a ridiculous degree.

Dipper could feel her steady gaze. Knew she was watching him. But if he glanced back, she'd turn away. So he continued to look. To take it in. The preparations. The layout of the room, the location of every exit, the material in the paneling along the walls. Suddenly his eyes stopped. Stayed locked on something. Pacifica saw his calm composure disappear, erased by a look of loathing mixed with fear. She followed his gaze. And immediately felt just the same way he did.

Preston Northwest was unaware of their staring. He strode back and forth, overseeing everything, trying to keep track of it all. The hustle was twice as fast and confusing as before. The ghost had undone much that now had to be redone with very little time to spare. Preston could be seen checking his watch constantly, and then forgetting he was wearing a watch, and shouting that someone needed to tell him the time. Suddenly he became aware of something disrupting preparations. Something pink. With braces. As Preston realized who the little devil was, he turned.

Dipper and Pacifica each observed the other instantly throw up a mask to replace their previous shared expression as Preston turned to look at them. Pacifica, a mask of happy obedience, Dipper, one of cool grace and charm. Preston strode forward with a mask on as well. A wide smile of welcome as he looked at this impossibly young cockroach that, for reasons inexplicable, had the unique ability to throw him off his guard. Only the thought that he was deceiving Dipper kept him from losing his cool. After all, manipulation was Preston's favorite game. He always won.

"Ah, the man of the hour!" Preston cried joyously, as his wife materialized out of thin air, (practically, not literally,) and held his arm. "So good of you to come on such short notice! So you can help us with our... Situation?"

Dipper met his gaze calmly. "I'll do my best. You need not worry yourself about compensation. Those three young ladies chasing the valet need only attend tonight's event, and I will consider myself payed."

"That's fine! Splendid!" Preston said with his mouth, while his eyes told Dipper he was lying. "Very good. Now, is there anything we can do to make this easier for you? Speed this up, as it may be?"

"Yes, thank you. I'm going to need a written layout of the ground floor of the Manor, and for your staff to stay as clear of me as possible, as far as it is convenient."

Preston snapped his fingers, and a smartly dressed servant who had been standing by listening dashed off for a map. "We can do that, certainly. Anything to make your job easier."

Dipper glanced at his watch, and said evenly, "I think I should tell you Preston, though I'll be working as fast as I can, there is a good chance, if you'll look at that fine watch of yours, that I will still be... _working,_ after the party has begun. I know that's not ideal, but we are running rather short on time. So, with all of your staff so busy getting ready for the Gala, I was wondering if I could borrow Pacifica? I'll need someone to show me where this thing has been sighted, as well as show me where the party will be, so I can avoid interrupting."

"Well... umm..." Preston felt as though he'd been backed into a corner, but he couldn't place how. "Well, certainly! That's, uh, just fine." He said, ignoring his wife stomping on his toe to say _"No, no, no, nonono."_ "Yes, she just has to change into her party dress. It will only take a moment. In fact..." Preston suddenly had an idea. Something he just _knew_ the boy would hate. "If it's not too much trouble, Dipper, could I ask _you_ to change your clothes? We have a selection of men's clothing your size, and if you'll be working during the party, it would help keep you under the radar..."

Now it was Dipper's turn to be unable to say no, to what seemed like an innocent request. "So long as it doesn't take too long..." he said, hating himself for it.

"Splendid! I'll go find Cecelia and have her take you to-"

"Actually," Pacifica broke in. She did not often interrupt her father, and it rather surprised him. "I could take Dipper to the Problem Room. I think I can... fix him up."

The gleam in Pacifica's eyes made Preston falter. But his wife stepped in. Priscilla could see that Pacifica was obviously excited at the chance to get some revenge. "Of course, sweetie." She smiled at her daughter. "Now, run along! You haven't much time."

"Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Northwest. I'll have this guy gone in no time." Dipper nodded briskly.

"Come on, Dip!" Pacifica called from halfway up an oak staircase. "Before that ghost dies _again_ of boredom."

"Oh, it is so on." Dipper took off running after her.

Mrs. Northwest watched the pair leave. Something was unsettling her about those two...

Priscilla suddenly realized that she might have misread her daughter's intentions.

-)&(-

Pacifica heard Dipper call from inside his changing room. "Are you trying to kill me of embarrassment? I'm going to look like a complete idiot."

Adjusting her shoulder strap, Pacifica sighed and rolled her eyes. "Dipper, I picked your outfit myself. Are you insulting me?"

Dipper didn't miss a beat. "Of course you picked something amazing. But it won't look amazing on me. Trust me, your father set me up."

"Or I asked him to do it for me."

Dipper was quiet for a moment. Then, "Nope. You both just wanted the same thing. Like father, like daughter."

Pacifica gasped, feigning insult. "Dipper, that was a low blow."

"You're right. That's not fair to your dad."

"Dipper!"

He laughed. Then made a sound like he was being strangled.

"Dipper? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. This tie just made an attempt on my life."

She grinned. "It doesn't like you?"

"This collar really doesn't need the tie's help in killing me, you know."

Pacifica stepped out from behind the dressing screen and studied herself in the mirror. "The guy who's gonna go downstairs and battle a ghost is getting trashed by the clothes I picked out for him?"

"I'd rather kill another shape-shifter than have to wear this thing."

"Kill a _what_ now?"

"I'll tell you about it later."

Pacifica rapped on the dressing room door. "Come on, Mr. Ghostbuster. You've been in their for forever."

"Ugh. Your father will pay for this at some point."

"Just get out of there."

The door opened.

He was wearing sleek black shoes, black dress slacks, and a white dress shirt under a black vest pinstriped in silver. A silver tie around his neck gleamed as if it was made from woven steel. He shrugged on a gleaming double-breasted coat that swished down to his ankles. It was black as night, and had space enough to keep the Equalizer, materialization rod, and anointed water inside, along with the Journal. Dipper pulled it out and began flipping through the pages. "In case of fashion attack... Fashion attack... Fashion attack..." He looked up, panicked. "There's nothing here! I'm doomed! AAARGH!"

He fell to the ground, writhing in mock pain, before realizing Pacifica wasn't laughing. Just staring. "What?"

She couldn't speak. She couldn't look away. He looked- he looked...

Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. She began stuttering, not sure what to say. She was saved last minute by a servant knocking on the door. Dipper stood. "Come in."

He entered. "The map you requested, sir." Handing a long cardboard poster tube to Dipper, he nodded, and left.

Dipper popped the top off the tube, taking out the map, and beginning to spread it out on the ground. "A little help?"

Pacifica knelt in her dress with little difficulty, helping Dipper unroll the paper. Dipper glanced at her quickly as they unrolled the map. He had was grateful he had thought of the joke when he had. It had kept him from staring at Pacifica. She had changed into an elegant, sleeveless gown, dark violet and shining. Her golden hair fell almost to her waist. He looked down, hoping she hadn't noticed his glance. She had.

The map was simple, if large. The property was quite extensive. The rooms were each labeled neatly, giving Dipper a quick layout of the ground floor. "Right," he said, scanning the paper, "This should just take a second to memorize... Now, where will the party be taking place?"

Pacifica indicated with her finger. She wasn't wearing gloves. "They'll come in here, the atrium, dinner will be in the Ballroom, then they'll probably be in these three parlors, the ballroom, the atrium, and this area of the gardens."

Dipper nodded. "That leaves most of the floor to me. Wait... what's this?"

Someone had circled one of the rooms, labeled _-The Den-,_ in red marker. Pacifica saw.

"That's where the servants think it... lives."

Dipper looked up at her. "Really? That's where the soul of a dead person Lives?"

"Dipper!" She looked up to find him grinning. She huffed. "You know what I mean! That's where it stays, mostly. No one's seen it, but way more creepy stuff goes on in there than anywhere else."

"Hmmm..." Dipper studied the map again, making sure he wouldn't get turned around. "Well, I guess that's where I'll start."

"I'll?"

Dipper rolled up the map and stuffed it back in the tube. They both stood. "What?"

"Where _we'll_ start."

Dipper stared at Pacifica like she was crazy. "Um, no. Can you imagine what your parents would do to me if something went wrong? They'd kill me, then use Black Magic to bring me back to life, just so they could kill me again. Besides," he looked away now, flushing. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself, either."

Pacifica looked at him a moment, then walked up to him. She grabbed his shoulder. "Hey."

He looked at her.

She smiled. "Remember what you said about earning trust? I trust you to keep me safe. Now trust me."

Dipper sighed. He had a feeling he would regret this. "World's best party going on, and you wanna go catch a ghost? Pacifica Northwest, you are NOT a chip off the old block."

Dipper turned and swept onto his head a black top hat with a thick silver band around the rim. He turned to Pacifica. "Too much?"

She shook her head. "Perfect."

-)&(-

When they headed downstairs, they found that the guests had not yet arrived. They found Mabel, Candy, and Grenda huddled around the guest list with their hands together, like they were taking an oath or something. Dipper sighed. "I'm not even gonna ask."

Mabel looked up and saw them. "(Gasp) Dipper!" She barreled into him, almost knocking him down. His hat went flying. "Omygosh, you look so cute! I don't think I've ever seen you so dressed up!"

"You got that right," he wheezed, trying to get the oxygen back into his lungs. She released him, and he retrieved his hat.

"And Pacifica! You look so great!" Pacifica braced herself as she was subjected to a Mabel-hug as well. Mabel spun her around so she could see her from all angles, then backed up. "Come on, we're gonna go pet peacocks!"

Pacifica laughed. "Actually, me and Dipper are going to catch a ghost. I'll come find you guys later."

Pacifica and Dipper left. Mabel turned to her friends, and had a hard time keeping from laughing as she said, "Well, Dipper's officially had the worst First Date idea EVER"

The three exploded into laughter.


	5. Chapter 4: I've got a bad feeling

_**A/N:**_ _Don_ _'t read into the magic too much. I just made up stuff that spoke of the arcane and the mysterious. No other implications intended. And no, I don't do disclaimers. Who would believe me if I said I owned GF? This is friggin' FanFiction. I think it's apparent I don't own anything but_ _My writing._ _This is_ _my own creation._ _Now, on with this poor excuse for a show._

I'm really sorry about this, Star Wars, but seriously...

 **Chapter 4:** I have a bad feeling about this.

Ever walked into a new or strange situation thinking, "How bad could it be?", and then immediately found it to be every kind of bad you were expecting?

That was how Dipper felt the moment he opened the door.

If they gave out a prize for the Creepiest Rec Room in Gravity Falls, Preston Northwest would win without even cheating. The Den had no electric lighting that still worked, courtesy of the ghost. The light of a blazing fireplace spurred on a host of flickering shadows that darted from wall to wall. There was little decoration. A couch and two armchairs in front of the fire, and a pool table at the back. Heavy, dark curtains drawn over the windows on the far wall. A stuffed grizzly bear's head snarled from a plaque on the ugly wallpaper, alongside a frowning ostrich and a grumpy looking warthog. Rare animals from all over the world glared down with dead, glass eyes, nothing but heads. Fragments of what they had been.

So despite it really not being Dipper's fault, it was just about the worst place in the entire mansion to bring the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. Smooth, bro.

He sighed. "Yep, this looks like the kind of room that would be haunted alright." He reached into his coat and drew out the materialization rod. Twirling the glass stick expertly, he turned to Pacifica. He grinned. "Here we go."

And Dipper was instantly having fun. He almost became a different person. His steps changed, slow and measured, the rod at his side. His breathing was quiet and calm. Pacifica kept close behind him as he circled the room, moving through the darkest corners first, prowling the perimeter, waiting for... For...

For something that was certainly taking its time in appearing.

Dipper and Pacifica made a full circle of the room before stopping before the fireplace. Nothing happened. Pacifica jumped at every small noise: the hearth did little to warm the vicinity.

He frowned into the flames, his eyes dark and thoughtful. _This doesn't add up..._

Pacifica grew nervous. "What is it?"

Dipper shook his head. Into the coat went the rod, and out of its folds came Dipper's most prized possession. He flipped through the pages in front of the fire-light, looking for something. When he found the page he wanted, he scanned it, then put the book away.

"Not sure if your ghost is smarter than most, or just shy, but it doesn't seem to want to come out and play. I, however, am not in the mood for hide-and-seek."

Dipper removed his top hat and flung it to the couch. Whipping his coat back, Dipper spread his arms wide, and closed his eyes. His back was to the fireplace, making him less of a young man and more of a silhouette. He made quite the intimidating presence. Pacifica stood a little ways off as he began to chant in a low guttural voice. It would have seemed like gibberish, if not for the way that the air seemed to move at his words. The fire dimmed, and it suddenly felt as if something large, invisible, and menacing was moving very fast around the room. Dipper's voice grew louder and louder, the air turning cold as his words became distinguishable.

" _...EnchanSpiritusRevelenenTarkurTarkuralMagnifiSpecteriumIlluminoIrridiAwfierNekturen-"_

Pacifica stood transfixed as Dipper's eyes opened. Gone was the warm brown that could make her blush or stare. Gone were the eyes she knew. Nothing but white light, shining from his eyes, streaked with the silver of dreams and the gray of storm clouds. There was no stationary air left in the room; a fierce wind was blowing in endless circles that came from nowhere. It swirled the edge of Pacifica's dress, blowing her hair back like a yellow flag. Dipper's coat tails flapped as the almost musical words came to a climax.

" _...UndremixOblivenerLyiClovosAndromenChaliChalientiFeyenExtemporMystirien-"_

Suddenly it sounded as if three Dipper's were speaking in unison.

" _JerimeoMalichienEgyptusMalachironMaliochorAhknetMala!MALI!MALACHI!"_

The wind died. The strange cold was gone. The glow shot from Dipper's eyes and dissipated. There was complete silence as the heavy curtains stopped moving, and Pacifica's hair fell to stationary. Dipper was panting slightly, out of breath. No one spoke. Dipper stared straight ahead, and Pacifica stared at him. Nothing happened.

And then all of literal Hell descended on Northwest Manor.

The fire at Dipper's back exploded with such ferocity that the boy was thrown forward. As he rose from the floor, Pacifica realized that his coat was on fire. She rushed to pull it off him, heedless of the flames, but suddenly there was no fire. The coat wasn't even blackened. Dipper looked up and smiled grimly. "It'll take more than that to finish me."

The two turned to look at the fire, now raging far outside it's boundaries. Dipper thought he saw a flicker of blue... Was that the pilot light? No, wait...

Dipper suddenly had no awkward thoughts about full-body contact with Pacifica. He dove into her, knocking the both of them to one side as a bolt of blue fire shot straight through where they had been before. The instant the fire touched the couch, the entire thing went up in flames, catching fire to nothing else. The fireplace burned entirely azure, now. As Dipper helped Pacifica up, she began to scream. Dipper turned.

There was blood dripping from the mouths of the heads on the wall. Their glass eyes glowed red and they began to murmur in dark voices. Dipper stared into space, processing everything at once. "Bursts of SaFire... Inanimate possession and reincarnation... Bloody Manifestation... Crap. Level 10."

Turning to the frightened girl beside him, he looked right in her eyes. "Time to go."

-)&(-

Neither of them made it farther than the second armchair. The doors slammed shut and a pair of pool cues rose from the rack on the wall and barred the door closed. Dipper turned and tried to gauge how long it would take to get to the window.

A skeletal hand burst from the fireplace.

Dipper gestured to the pool table. "Get under that thing. When I say _run_ , break for the door."

Pacifica needed no further instructions. Quickly she dove under the table as the flaming apparition pulled itself, roaring, from the fireplace. Dipper pulled the sphere of glass from his coat and waited for his foe to straighten himself.

The flaming skull shook itself, as though it had a headache, or it were trying to dislodge the hatchet embedded at the crown of the head. Flesh and the clothes of a lumberjack melted over the skeleton, and Dipper's hard eyes softened. He was suddenly reminded of Manly Dan, but the cold flint came back to his gaze as he remembered who was quivering with fear under the table behind him. No more showing off, no more talk and preparation. This was it. Time to live or die.

The man before Dipper levitated just a few inches off the ground. His head and face were, for a moment, bald and clean-shaven. Until SaFire burst to life all around his head and visage. His left eye socket, once empty, burned an angry blue-white. A voice roared.

" _WHO DARES INVOKE THE SONG OF MALACHI?! WHO WOULD ATTEMPT TO FORCE ME TO REVEAL MYSELF BEFORE I'M GOOD AND READY?! I'LL TURN HIS ENTRAILS INSIDE-OUT AND TURN HIS SKULL INTO NOTHING BUT A-"_

Suddenly, it stopped. The ghost seemed to have noticed Dipper. It looked down at the boy quizzically, then closed its eye and took a deep breath through his nose. It scanned the room, then returned its gaze to Dipper. When it spoke, it was in a gruff voice, neither ab- nor para-normal. "Budge up, boy."

Dipper's smile was downright scary. "I'm afraid that is not an option."

The ghost turned up the heat on his hair and beard, and tried again. "Neff off, son. I've work to do, and I've waited a very long time to do it."

Dipper almost laughed at this. "Yeah, well, the last guy I stopped had been waiting millions of years to burn this dimension to the ground. I put him back on the waiting list."

The ghost looked thoughtful, then closed his one ordinary eye and stared with the fiery one that could not close. A shimmering blue pine tree appeared just over Dipper's black vest. "You don't understand... My quarrel is not with you." He looked up, (the image disappeared,) and sniffed again. He smiled. "It is... with... _her._ "

"Buddy," Dipper turned, hiding the glass sphere behind his back, "you're talking to the only person who gets to smell _her_ and smile like that. I think you and I've got the only quarrel you should be worried about, just now."

The ghost raised his hand, and a huge ax, double sided and gleaming, burst from nothing into his hand. He sighed. "Oh, all right. If you insist. Bit of a bother, though. I bet you plan on going down fighting?"

Dipper smirked. "Took the words right out of my mouth." With a motion almost to fast to follow, the hidden arm flashed upward and flung the glass ball up into the ceiling. An amount of water far too great to fit in the ball coated the plaster, running along the ceiling above the ghost's head, before falling onto him like rain. The enchanted water reacted with the SaFire, causing a multitude of bright explosions. The Woodsman howled in pain at the touch of the water and the burn of the reaction. Dipper whipped out the Equalizer, drew back the bolt, and aimed, blasting the main doors to charred pieces with a beam of gleaming white light. His voice nearly cracked as he called in desperation,

" _RUN!"_


	6. Chapter 5: Hunter and Hunted

**Chapter 5:** Run for your life

Everything was falling apart. The plan was ruined. The party was going to suffer a _major_ interruption. Her parents were going to kill her, and then a murderous ghost was going to kill _them_ , and probably everyone else in the house. And there was only one thought going through her head.

Smell her? Did Dipper think that was even a little creepy?

As Pacifica flew from the Den in a panic, with Dipper's defiant cry and the ghost's bestial roar echoing behind her, she supposed that her perfume _was_ a little strong. It was the scent her mother detested, which was why Pacifica had chosen it, and she thought that maybe "smile like that" meant he was just making fun of her for wearing such-

Just then, something that looked an awful lot like Dipper flew past her down the hallway, until it slammed into the opposite wall, making a very Dipper-like noise. As she rushed to his side, he struggled to his feet, pulling the Materialization Rod from his coat and sending a blast of white lightning down the hallway toward his foe. His voice was like a drill sergeant. "Garden! NOW!"

Despite the fact that Dipper should have broken several bones a moments ago, he managed to push her rather hard out the double doors into the grounds. She ran for the hedge maze, where she knew the servants _wouldn't_ be standing around waiting to be collateral. A hat-less Dipper fell into pace beside her, and as they reached the entrance to the maze, he panted, "Go right!" as he broke left. She hesitated, but he called, "Don't worry! Just KEEP RUNNING!"

So she did. Rather adept at running in heels, the girl flew down the maze, taking a wild turn, then another. She wished she had spent more time out here. She ought to have known the maze like the back of her hand, but she was running blind. Lost in her own backyard.

The hedge on either side of her burst into blue flame. She was spurred on, but the path ended at a wall of foliage. Dead end. She clenched her teeth angrily and turned to find the Woodsman floating down the path towards her. His voice was laced in malice.

"Ancient sins, ancient sins, _ancient sins, ANCIENT SINS! ANCIENT SINS!"_

As the apparition, (and his ax,) grew closer, she screamed in desperation, "Dipper!"

The ghost laughed. "Foolish girl. Child of Fate or not, there is nothing he can do."

" _Yeah,_ you just keep telling yourself that, Paul Bunyan."

The girl and ghost turned in surprise as the hedge wall disintegrated beside them. The Materialization Rod let loose as Dipper caught his foe in a cage of white lightning. The tendrils stabbed into ghostly flesh, holding the Woodsman in place as he roared, struggling, trying to reach Pacifica with his ax.

But Dipper wasn't having it. As one hand cast the Rod, the other drew the Equalizer from his now grime-streaked coat. The thumb dragged the bolt back, and Dipper fired again and again. With the Rod holding the ghost's form in place, each shot of light punched a hole through his body. With a vengeful cry, the specter's shape flew to pieces and disappeared.

Putting his toys away, the boy rushed to Pacifica's side. "Are you hurt?"

The Northwest heir shook her head. "I, uh, yeah, just let me catch my- my breath."

He looked her over again, as if searching for an injury, then nodded and began walking back through the tunnel he'd burned through the maze. "Come on, then. He'll be back, and knowing my luck, probably sooner than I'd like."

She began walking just behind him, then something occurred to her. She rushed up to look in his face. "Dipper Pines, did you just use me as bait?"

Dipper kept walking, looking straight ahead, his face impressively neutral, all things considered. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

She caught his slip into his cordial tone. "Oh, I'm sure you do, Mr. Gentleman. You knew he'd pick me over you, so you had us split up so you could double back and wait for him, you sneak!"

Dipper made a paltry effort to tap the dirt off his shoes before strolling back into the manor. He pulled the Journal from his coat and began flipping through it, replying as he read and walked the length of the hall. "There was a chance he would go for me, in which case my plan was to lose him in the maze, find you, and get back to the house. Believe me, Pacifica," he said, looking up from the old book, his voice subdued in emotion, "I didn't want to split up. Having you by my side is far preferable."

She held his eyes as he stopped in the corridor. Something warm blossomed deep within her, reveling in the silence. He turned away, ending the moment as he strode off again, with her falling into step beside him as he continued. "But it had become obvious to me I could not beat him in a fair fight. I needed to have surprise on my side. Even now, I've only dissipated his essence momentarily, and when he's back, he'll be waiting for that trick."

Pacifica waited for him to continue, and when he didn't, she asked, "Then what now? Where are we going?"

"Back to the Den. No two category 10 ghosts are different, but knowing something about them is the first step to beating them. Its rather fortuitous that you insisted on coming with me, actually."

"Dip, lets pretend I didn't know what that word meant."

He smiled. "Fortuitous, as in good fortune. Lucky. The specter seems intent on the destruction of the Northwest family. Now, if he just wanted your parents, I wouldn't have such a problem with it…

"Dipper!"

He ignored her. "But he seems to have some vendetta against you in particular. Hm, maybe he wants to finish you all of in ascending order- the heir, and then the matriarch and then the patriarch…

"In any event, from now on you'll have to stick close to me. I am, as of right now, you're bodyguard, until such time as this loser is exorcised properly."

Pacifica looked at him and caught him looking at her. As he turned away, she smirked. "Do you even have a plan?"

He feigned insult. "Of course I have a plan!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes!"

"Lets hear it then."

"Improvise." He paused, then sighed. "And hope that Mabel stays out of trouble."


End file.
